She didn’t fight for vengeance. She fought for the life growing inside her. And tonight… Juliette was out of mercy.
The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor pulsed through the dim hospital room like a fragile thread holding back the silence.Damon Thorne stood at the doorway, bruised, bandaged, and still limping from a cracked rib. Pain throbbed through his side with every breath, but he barely felt it. Not while she lay there.Juliette.She looked impossibly pale against the white sheets, her shoulder wrapped in thick gauze, IV lines threading from her arm like veins of glass. Oxygen hissed softly at her bedside, keeping her breathing steady - barely.The sniper’s bullet had torn through her, nearly severing her artery.And yet, she had survived.Damon stepped in slowly, each movement deliberate. The war might have ended in fire and betrayal, but in this room, time stood still. It was just her and him, and the terrifying possibility that she might not wake.He reached for her hand. Cold, but alive.“You held on,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “You're strong, stubborn, active, and impossible to und
Smoke curled around the broken remains of the Blackwell estate, now reduced to a skeleton of cracked stone and flickering flames. The battle had torn through its walls like a tempest, leaving shattered chandeliers hanging like dying stars and oil paintings charred to the frame. The stench of gunpowder and scorched wood clung to the night air, mingling with something more feral vengeance.Damon Thorne stood at the edge of it all, his body trembling not from exhaustion but from the decision he had just made. His finger hovered above the trigger, his gun still aimed at Augustus Virelli’s head.But the moment had passed.He’d lowered the weapon.Not because Augustus deserved mercy. But because Damon refused to be manipulated by another deal, another threat, another cycle of destruction."I’m not making deals with devils anymore," Damon said, voice rough.Augustus smiled, smug, victorious. "So you’ll let me walk? That doesn’t sound like the Damon Thorne I knew."Damon stepped forward. "I n
The air inside the charred remains of the old Blackwell estate was thick with smoke and ash but none of it compared to the fire burning in Damon Thorne’s chest.Dust clung to his blood-smeared shirt. The wound at his side throbbed with every step, but he didn’t falter. Not now. Not after everything.He moved with lethal intent through the scorched corridors, pistol in hand, guided by distant echoes and the fury that had long since replaced fear.Juliette was alive.He’d seen her pulled from the wreckage, battered and bloodied but breathing. She had survived Celeste’s blade, survived the truth that had nearly broken her, survived the night that turned their war into legend.But it wasn’t over.Because the man responsible for it all, the one who had orchestrated betrayals from the shadows, turned bloodlines into weapons, and used every pawn to manipulate the board was still out there.And Damon was about to end it.------------------------------------------------------------------------
They thought it was over.The estate burned around them, alarms shrieking like dying sirens as Damon and Juliette stumbled through the collapsing corridors together, wounded but standing. Celeste was down for now. The war room was in ruins. And yet...It wasn’t finished."Go!" Juliette urged, gripping Damon’s arm as the ceiling groaned overhead. "Get to the vault, we still haven’t cleared the south wing.""I'm not leaving you," he said, voice strained, eyes searching hers."You have to. There's something else, someone else still moving behind the lines."Damon hesitated. Then with one final look, he disappeared into the smoke.Juliette turned toward the east hall and walked straight into her worst nightmare.—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Gunfire echoed through the crumbling halls of the Blackwell estate. Smoke clung to the ceilings like a ghost refusing to leave, and the floor beneath Juliette’s boots trembled f
The estate loomed like a relic of madness, shrouded in mist and scorched by decades of buried secrets. Its towering stone walls and shattered stained-glass windows whispered the sins of those who had once ruled from within. And tonight, it was no longer just the origin of Damon and Juliette’s suffering.It was the battlefield for their final reckoning.Rain poured in sheets, drumming the earth like war drums. Thunder rolled across the sky, a grim prelude to what was coming.Juliette stood at the rear entrance, Kevlar tight across her chest, gloved fingers wrapped around her customized Glock. Damon stood beside her, pale but steady. The scars from his captivity hadn’t faded, but the fire in his eyes had returned. They weren’t just fighting for revenge, they were fighting for truth, for peace.For each other.Their team was small, battered but loyal those who had survived betrayal, bullets, and blood. Everyone of them knew the odds. None expected to walk out whole.“We go in clean,” Dam
The war had entered its final days.A heavy silence draped the city, creeping through alleys and steel towers like a phantom. Every shadow felt like a blade. On the rooftop of Thorne Estate, Damon stood motionless, eyes on the horizon where dark storm clouds gathered: ominous, electric, and inevitable.Juliette approached quietly, her boots crunching against gravel. “The team is assembled,” she said. “Everyone who’s left.”Damon turned slowly. His face was still gaunt from the torture, bruises yellowing along his neck. But the fire in his eyes had returned — quiet, unforgiving.“Then it’s time.”---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------In the lower halls of the estate, their remaining allies waited, battle-weary, eyes sharp, adrenaline muted by exhaustion. Ava, their lead tech, hovered over a projected blueprint of the Lennox estate — Blackwell’s final stronghold. A massive fortress, cloaked in decaying wealth and